In the future, things will fall apart with the flip of a switch. Somebody down at the Office of the Ministry of the Internet will get pissed off about something, and a button will be pushed, the big red one with the plastic case over it, with the big letters spelling out DO NOT TOUCH on top of it, and everything will go dead. Silence. Computers won't work, cellphones, Palm Pilots, iPhones, video games, security systems, automatic doors at grocery stores and apartment buildings -- the kind with the ID chip in them that only let residents past a certain point -- elevators, clocks, the Stock Market, electric cars and trains and buses, public transportation of all kinds. People with electronic parts inside of them facilitated through the Internet, overseen by their doctors via the Internet, will just keel over. Cleaning machines will cease to operate; swings and cradles will stop swinging and rocking; store keepers will power down, registers will lock up, meat counters will freeze over; the Sun will go into a state of hibernation; rocket ships will fall from space, passing up jet planes and helicopters and other forms of air travel. Homeless people will rise up and walk through the litter of the Earth and eat freely out of peoples' bags, the ones that were not properly locked down before the button was pushed. And God in Heaven will say to His Son, "Now is the time." And Jesus will descend upon the planet in a magnificent light show of rainbow-colored and golden beams, in His white robe with the blue sash, shoes off to show the Holes in His Feet, Hair and Skin immaculate, Sexy even, but no one will see because everybody will be looking down, looking around themselves at the things that run via the Internet, saying horrible things, curse words, taking the Lord Jesus' Name in vain to spite whomever is responsible for this tragedy, and Jesus will turn His Head to the side and He will Cry at what is left of this pitiful planet with its lack of natural resources, with all things man-made and reformed by scientists in the image of the original items created by God the Father, the Endangered Species Replications and the Third World Childbots and the Oppressed of Religious Beliefs. And the one Joe who pushed the big red button in the OMI will climb out of a window he had forethought to leave open to aid in his escape, and he will carry with him an antique "gun," one with no automatic locks -- one of the ones kept in the Historical Section of the OMI -- and he will make his way to the place where Jesus has landed, where the earth is charred black and the replicated plants about have melted into piles of gooey green-blackness, and he will hold the gun to Jesus' Head and will say, "Take me to your leader," and he will laugh, and he will be the only one laughing because this is a long-old joke and he will be the only one who gets the punch of it. Jesus will know, but Jesus will not laugh because Jesus stays calm always, and Jesus will ask the lunatic, "What is it you desire, My Brother?" And the man with the trigger-happy finger will say, "Take me to Heaven, to a place where things really exist and are not replicated by man, where things are made by God." And Jesus will do as the man says, but only if the man promises to leave the gun behind. After a long time considering this, without any further Word from Christ, thinking about the books he has read describing Heaven and the way Earth was before man ruined it, finally he agrees, and up the two of them float, but without the same fanfare (because no one is watching). And in the Great Beyond, Jesus karate chops the lunatic man and he floats in a cartwheelie sort of way out of the orbit and forever floats in an extraterrorestrial Hell. In the future.July 31: future (21 minutes)
In the future, things will fall apart with the flip of a switch. Somebody down at the Office of the Ministry of the Internet will get pissed off about something, and a button will be pushed, the big red one with the plastic case over it, with the big letters spelling out DO NOT TOUCH on top of it, and everything will go dead. Silence. Computers won't work, cellphones, Palm Pilots, iPhones, video games, security systems, automatic doors at grocery stores and apartment buildings -- the kind with the ID chip in them that only let residents past a certain point -- elevators, clocks, the Stock Market, electric cars and trains and buses, public transportation of all kinds. People with electronic parts inside of them facilitated through the Internet, overseen by their doctors via the Internet, will just keel over. Cleaning machines will cease to operate; swings and cradles will stop swinging and rocking; store keepers will power down, registers will lock up, meat counters will freeze over; the Sun will go into a state of hibernation; rocket ships will fall from space, passing up jet planes and helicopters and other forms of air travel. Homeless people will rise up and walk through the litter of the Earth and eat freely out of peoples' bags, the ones that were not properly locked down before the button was pushed. And God in Heaven will say to His Son, "Now is the time." And Jesus will descend upon the planet in a magnificent light show of rainbow-colored and golden beams, in His white robe with the blue sash, shoes off to show the Holes in His Feet, Hair and Skin immaculate, Sexy even, but no one will see because everybody will be looking down, looking around themselves at the things that run via the Internet, saying horrible things, curse words, taking the Lord Jesus' Name in vain to spite whomever is responsible for this tragedy, and Jesus will turn His Head to the side and He will Cry at what is left of this pitiful planet with its lack of natural resources, with all things man-made and reformed by scientists in the image of the original items created by God the Father, the Endangered Species Replications and the Third World Childbots and the Oppressed of Religious Beliefs. And the one Joe who pushed the big red button in the OMI will climb out of a window he had forethought to leave open to aid in his escape, and he will carry with him an antique "gun," one with no automatic locks -- one of the ones kept in the Historical Section of the OMI -- and he will make his way to the place where Jesus has landed, where the earth is charred black and the replicated plants about have melted into piles of gooey green-blackness, and he will hold the gun to Jesus' Head and will say, "Take me to your leader," and he will laugh, and he will be the only one laughing because this is a long-old joke and he will be the only one who gets the punch of it. Jesus will know, but Jesus will not laugh because Jesus stays calm always, and Jesus will ask the lunatic, "What is it you desire, My Brother?" And the man with the trigger-happy finger will say, "Take me to Heaven, to a place where things really exist and are not replicated by man, where things are made by God." And Jesus will do as the man says, but only if the man promises to leave the gun behind. After a long time considering this, without any further Word from Christ, thinking about the books he has read describing Heaven and the way Earth was before man ruined it, finally he agrees, and up the two of them float, but without the same fanfare (because no one is watching). And in the Great Beyond, Jesus karate chops the lunatic man and he floats in a cartwheelie sort of way out of the orbit and forever floats in an extraterrorestrial Hell. In the future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
